


Dictated Love

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: M/M, choe is so done, hints of sex, valentine's day fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine's Day is obsolete, but Makishima still knows about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dictated Love

“Choe, where is breakfast?” 

Choe groaned and shielded his face with his arm. If he didn't look, maybe the man standing over his bed would go away. 

“Choe.” 

Or not. 

“Mm sleeping,” Choe managed to get out, before turning over and pulling his blankets tight around him. 

From above, he heard a “tsk” sound, followed by weight dipping the bed. A cold, sharp object pressed to his throat and suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he was wide awake. 

“Breakfast,” Makishima hummed. 

“Get off me,” Choe said. 

The weight disappeared, and Choe sat up just in time to see Makishima disappear through the door. He rubbed his eyes. 

“Also,” Makishima called from outside, “I expect only the best. I want to know how much you appreciate me, Choe.” 

Choe wondered why he couldn't just rail Makishima's ass until the other man was senseless. Maybe he could, later. But Makishima was difficult enough that he wouldn't even consider being in the same bedroom as Choe for more than five minutes until he was “in the mood.” And getting “in the mood” required expensive gifts celebrating a holiday that Makishima didn't even believe in. 

Choe hated Valentine's Day even though he'd only found out about it yesterday. No one celebrated it anymore. But Makishima knew about all things old, so of course he knew about this. 

Choe got up, got dressed, and went into the living room, where Makishima was lounging against the couch, reading a novel. He didn't bother to look at the title, just grabbed his coat and slipped it on. 

Makishima's eyes narrowed over his book. “Where are you going?” 

“I'll be back,” Choe said. “I forgot something.” He made it out the door before Makishima could ask any more questions. 

*

“As foolish as people are now with their emotions, there was a time when they allowed corporations to dictate when to show each other love.” 

Choe looked up from the program he was coding, because Makishima was staring at him with that look on his face that said, “I'm going to teach you something you didn't know before and you're going to listen because everything I have to say is important and fascinating. Also, if you don't listen, I might knife you.” 

Admittedly, half the time Makishima did have interesting knowledge to impart. But the other half of the time, it was just self-absorbed showing off of knowledge that Choe didn't really care about. Makishima was infuriating that way, and Choe never knew which one he was going to get until Makishima was too far into his talking for Choe to gracefully leave. 

“Oh really?” Choe said, setting his laptop aside, because otherwise Makishima would complain about technology serving as a barrier between true interpersonal communication. 

“Valentine's Day,” Makishima said, “was a holiday on the 14th of February where corporations would entice couples to show their love by purchasing cards and sweets to show their affection.” 

Something clicked in Choe's head. “Today is February 13th.” 

“Like many holidays,” Makishima continued, “Valentine's Day was simply a capitalistic venture disguised as fostering relationships, when in reality, should human beings not be able to express their desire for one another whenever they please? But no, most people are sheep who need to be told who they should date, as with the Sibyl System now, or when they should express affection. Always needing to follow in the footsteps of others, shirking originality for complying to social expectations. And of course, governments and businesses take advantage of that. Can we really blame them?” 

“You're not a romantic, are you?” Choe asked. 

“Not in the affectionate sense, no,” Makishima said, smirking. “Of course, Valentine's Day is now obsolete. I do notice, Choe, that you yourself don't show much in the way of affection?” 

“No, I don't,” Choe agreed. 

“Why is that?” 

“I don't know.” He didn't like the pointed way Makishima was staring at him. 

“Perhaps something like Valentine's Day can be reclaimed now that it has faded into obscurity,” Makishima said. “In the absence of any other displays of affection, it would seem like a wasted opportunity.” 

Choe blinked. “You want a Valentine's Day gift?” 

Makishima scoffed. “I am not so simple.” 

Yes you are, Choe thought, but he didn't say it. 

* 

Because Valentine's Day was obsolete, there were no such things as heart-shaped chocolates. Choe found himself buying madeleines and fine wine, and ingredients for a breakfast that he didn't know how to cook. He thought that buying roses might be too much. Then he realized that Makishima probably wanted everything that could ever encompass demonstrative desire, so he got some of those, too. He even purchased items for a relaxing bath, because Makishima had been telling him how luxurious bathing was, and that it was a shame he didn't get to treat himself more often. 

The whole thing made Choe's skin crawl. 

Still, he returned to their apartment to find Makishima in the same place, waiting. Makishima's eyes followed him into the kitchen, where Choe set down his purchases, not bothering to hide them or wrap them. Yes, he was playing Makishima's game, but he could fight back in micro-aggressions. Which, today, consisted of being as obvious as humanly possible, giving up on the art of surprise. 

Also, because he wasn't a chef, he cooked pancakes. “Breakfast is ready,” he called out half an hour later. 

“You know,” Makishima said as he sat down, and then he frowned at the strangely shaped disks on the plate in front of him. “Choe, these are burnt.” 

“I'm not a chef,” Choe said. “You know that.” 

“Can I have a drink?” 

“I have wine.” 

“Wine doesn't go with breakfast. Mimosas, however-” 

“Wine,” Choe said, setting the bottle down in between them. “Eat.” 

Makishima frowned and ate. Clearly, he didn't find the pancakes romantic enough. Choe finished his own and grabbed the bag of bath supplies, shoving them under Makishima's nose. 

“What is this?” Makishima asked. 

“You're always complaining about how you want a fucking bath,” Choe said. 

Makishima reached into the bag and pulled out a receipt. “Choe, you're supposed to-” 

Choe snatched the receipt from him and crumbled it up. Makishima sighed and looked through the rest of the bag. 

“Well, I suppose I could do with some relaxation,” he said, sounding as if the idea was somehow a burden to his time. Choe rolled his eyes. “I deserve it. Meet me in my bedroom after?” 

“Right.” 

Makishima went off and Choe cleaned up. He grabbed his laptop and headed into the bedroom, placing roses on the pillow of Makishima's bed, which was a thing he'd seen in some crappy romance film, before sitting down and getting back to programming. 

This was enough to calm him down, and Makishima was actually taking a luxurious amount of time in his luxurious bath, to Choe's relief. He managed to finish the work he'd meant to do in the morning, and was messing around some online chatrooms when he felt two long-fingered hands press down on his shoulders, uncomfortably close to his neck. Lips ghosted his jaw, and Choe set his laptop on the bedside table. 

This was what he was here for. 

Makishima pulled him down onto the bed, straddled him. The knife came out. That fucking knife. 

“Choe,” Makishima purred, leaning close, knife positioned over his right cheek. He smelled like expensive soap and his hair was still damp. “Show me. Show me your desire.” 

“Get rid of the knife and I will.” 

Makishima tossed the knife aside, and Choe grabbed his hair and pulled, yanking him down and off-balance so that he could pin Makishima onto the bed, ass up. Makishima made a muffled noise into the pillow as Choe pinned his arms down. 

Happy fucking Valentine's Day, Choe thought. 

“Yes,” Makishima sighed. “Show me.” 

Choe smirked. Makishima would never confess to any sort of feelings, would never show affection. That was all on Choe. But Choe could take his own, and Makishima would let him. 

It could almost be called showing gratitude. At least, that's what Choe told himself.


End file.
